Page 6 of Calling Frank O'Hare

Siobhan was about to protest that her cup was only half empty but she decided not to bother.

5

Frank, the stranger

Netta had been blethering on about the wonderful time she’d been having with her old pals for ages before it occurred to her that Frank wasn’t listening. He was making the occasional noise every now and then, so she knew he was still on the line, but it wasn’t what you’d call interaction. This was unusual for Frank. He was normally attentive, and very involved in their conversations, but not today. ‘Frank, is everything all right?’

‘Why do you ask?’ He sounded as if she’d just accused him of something. The heinous crime of not being all right, presumably. This was very much not Frank. He was usually so laid back.

‘You seem a bit, I don’t know, not quite yourself.Iseverything all right?’ She did her best to make it sound like an empathetic enquiry rather than a blunt accusation.

There was a moment’s silence, his soft breathing the only evidence that he was still there, then: ‘Yes. Except… I was going to wait until you got home but since you ask, it’s my brother. It’s nothing really, but it seems he’s left his wife.’

‘Oh that’s a shame. These things happen, I suppose.’ It was an inadequate response but the news had rather taken Netta by surprise, mainly because she didn’t know Frank had a brother. She knew that his parents were still alive, and that he had a sister, but she couldn’t recall any mention of a brother.

‘Yeah, well, these things have a habit of happening to Martin, that’s for sure.’

‘Martin. That’s your brother? Are you close?’ Clearly not, seeing as the name Martin had never passed his lips in her company before, but she asked the question anyway. Mainly because she was intrigued.

Frank made a noise that was difficult to put a label on. Not so much a laugh as a mangled exclamation. ‘Not really. Anyway, it seems he’s walked out and come across the water. He’s staying at Cousin Finn’s in Glasgow.’

‘Cousin Finn?’ Another new name.

‘Yes. Sorry. There was already an Uncle Finn when Finn came along, so he’s always been known as Cousin Finn. Although Uncle Finn’s dead now, so I suppose we could just call him Finn but, you know…’

‘The name stuck.’

‘Exactly. Anyway, the thing is, I might have to go up there and see to things.’

‘See to things?’

‘Pack him off back to Belfast so the family can deal with him. I’m under orders. I’ve had phone calls.’

She couldn’t tell if he was joking, so she decided to not to laugh at the idea of Frank having phone calls that carried orders. ‘I’ll be leaving here first thing in the morning. I’ll be home by lunchtime. You can tell me all about it then if you want to. Unless you’d rather talk about it now.’

‘No, I don’t want to waste any more time than I have to on this. Tell me what you’ve been up to.’

‘Let me see. Where to start…’ and she began all over again. She’d been right, he hadn’t been listening to her at all. Frank really wasn’t himself. Mind you, she’d guessed that when she heard the message he’d left last night. It wasn’t like him to profess his undying love in the style of a pub singer. And then there was something about his late wife, Ellen. He’d been so drunk she couldn’t make out what it was, other than Frank assuring someone that she wasn’t Ellen. Who that someone was, Netta had no idea, but given he’d apparently spent the night in, it could only be the dogs or himself. And since Frank was pretending to have called her by accident, it wasn’t the right time to ask.

Netta turned into her road. She’d set off early enough that morning but the drive from Brighton had taken longer than expected, thanks to roadworks and a lorry blowout. So it was with some relief that she finally pulled up outside her house. Frank and the dogs came out to meet her, the dogs being infinitely more excited about her return than he was. But while he wasn’t exactly bouncing around in celebration, it was obvious Frank was happy to see her. He hugged her so tight you’d be forgiven for thinking she’d been away for months and not just a week.

She thought about his strange message as she kissed him. ‘Missed me?’

‘So much,’ he said, his arms still enveloping her. He smelt as if he’d just stepped out of the shower.

She ran her hand against his smooth face. ‘You’ve shaved.’

He grinned. ‘Special occasion.’ This was her Frank, not the one she’d spoken to yesterday. The man she knew and loved was back.

She landed another kiss on his lips. ‘Let’s not waste it then, shall we? Come on you. We’ve got some catching up to do.’

She took him into her house, the dogs following behind like a mini dog parade. Only when they got upstairs did the parade come to a halt. Frank closed the bedroom door to shut them out. ‘Sorry dogs, you’re gonna have to wait this one out.’

A few hours later, they were in the lounge. Outside, the skies had turned grey and wet but inside, they were cosied up on the old leather sofa. Netta stretched her foot out to stroke Frank’s leg with her toe. ‘What’s the news on Martin?’

‘I’m going up there tomorrow. Sorry. It would have been good to have a few days to ourselves.’

‘It would, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll have other times. I didn’t know you had a cousin in Glasgow.’ She was building up to asking about his brother in incremental steps. Cousin first, brother next.